


the one where ladybug asks chat noir for his number

by magesamell



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, just teens being teens, marxism and cheese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 17:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7724128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magesamell/pseuds/magesamell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it was annoying, she realized, to not share every inane and annoying and funny part of her day with her best friend</p>
            </blockquote>





	the one where ladybug asks chat noir for his number

she stared at the back of adrien agreste’s head, and wondered what chat noir was doing right now.

no doubt he was in class too, listening to some teacher. she wondered what he was like at school. if she were to guess, he would be the class clown, chirping jokes and demanding attention and being the nuisance she knew he was. she doubted he’d be sighing and mooning after some girl, like she was with adrien.

she imagined him making fun of her for it; for crushing to distraction, for _not paying attention_! it was her job to pay attention; to notice each and every detail.

the lecture was about romanticism, probably.

she tapped her tablet pen, she wondered if they four (Alya, Nino, Adrien and her) were going to the deli or the _patissiere_ for lunch, she wondered where chat noir ate lunch and if he was in a boring a lecture as she was.

 

-o-

 

the movement was reflexive; habit, her giggles leading the way. she screenshotted the post and then, for a wild, blank moment, realized there was no way she could send it to chat noir because she didn’t have his number.

she frowned at her phone; for the first time viscerally dissatisfied at the boundaries their lives required. she wasn’t going to remember to share this with him next time she saw him. she wouldn’t be able to even show it unless she remember to pick up her phone on her way, something ill advised due to her lack of pockets. (she had already learned her lesson with the textbook)

and it was so _perfect_ too! they had just been talking about this yesterday.

it was annoying, she realized, to not share every inane and annoying and funny part of her day with her best friend

(she creates a little folder on her phone’s photo app; “for chat” and puts all the pictures and posts and screenshots she’d saved for him. maybe one day they could look at it together)

 

-o-

 

when alya asked her about it later, she claimed it was just absent minded doodling. she was catching up on tv, filling in the blank spaces in her notebook in between the serious designs.

but she couldn’t deny to alya that this doodle was a bit more — involved — than the rest.

the fact was, she designed him a jacket. it was leather (of course) with zippers (of course) but the cut was assymetrical, she worked to get its lines suggestive of the arch of a cat’s body.

it was a work in progress. no one would wear it; it was too kitschy.

she felt it fit him anyway.

 

-o-

 

she queued up for another match and remembered, out of nowhere, that chat had said he played mecha strike iii. she wondered if she had beaten him — if he played online — lots of people used the chat noir robot for its excellent reach and surprising damage. the ladybug’s speed, evasion, and apm would always be superior, however. he could have been any one of those. he could be the guy who accepted her battle request now, all suited up.

was he any good? her instinct was to say — yes — he had worked well enough against gamer, but for all she knew he was a simple button masher. he fit the type.

this chat noir mecha went down very quickly, and she wondered how the hell her opponent had fought up to the insanity tier tournament if she pummeled him so quickly.

for a brief moment she fantasized about asking him to play with her. they could — they could create new profiles, accounts just to play each other. they could set all the settings to private, be each other’s only friends — she could even use a proxy — not that she exactly expected him to track her down via IP address. it could work. they could talk to each other — use headsets —

she stopped in her mental tracks. what was she doing. she shouldn’t be finding ways to _hang out_ with chat noir. something would go wrong. one of them would slip

(honestly, it would probably be her)

 

-o-

 

“ _camembert?”_ she teased adrien, grinning.

he mock glared at her. “I have — refined taste.” he looked nervous under his good humor.

“you can’t tell me your model diet includes salad _and_ camembert” nino said.

she tittered, amused that adrien apparently _liked_ camembert. if chat knew he would be so _mad._ his kwami was alway harassing him for gross cheeses and he told her often in no uncertain terms that it was the worst part of being a superhero. he would be downright offended somebody she knew actually liked the stuff.

“we can’t all be as _bourgeois_ as adrien,” marinette sighed, sipping on her soda

alya nodded sadly. “some of us resign ourselves to the plebian’s brie.”

adrien didn’t back down, defending his taste hotly.

marinette giggled. she was definitely telling chat.

 

-o-

 

the rain pounded on her roof, loud and unrelenting. marinette tapped her pencil against her sketchbook, feeling appropriately glum. there hadn’t been any akumas this week, and chat had to skip the wednesday and thursday patrol nights for his job. she had protested, rushing into scolding him about real life getting in the way of miraculous work — and he assured her again and again that it was only this week; it was a scheduling mistake and his dad would kill him if he missed these shifts.

she sighed. patrol was fine. a little longer than usual without a second pair of eyes, but normal. but the fact was that now it had been a full six days since she had seen him.

things were just glum without chat noir. the restrictions on their interactions were bad enough; to not see him at all was just mean.

she wondered if she could send him a message through tikki, but, as she had every previous time she considered this, she chickened out before even asking her kwami.

 

-o-

 

“well, look what the cat dragged in,” she called, unable to prevent the smile from creeping across her face.

he straightened from his bow, grinning in likewise. “my lady.” he reached to grip her hands, and she let him kiss her knuckles.

“how have you been, _mon minou_?”

“simply devastated, my lady.” he met her gaze. “so many days apart from my lady’s side.”

she softened. “I missed you too,” she said.

“yeah?” he asked.

“of course.”

he smiled at her, unabashed. she knew she was too — and she felt bubbly, fizzy, joyful.

she eased her hands out of his grip so she could throw her arms around him in a tippy-toe hug. he laughed, dipping his head, burying his nose in her hair. she didn’t let him pull away, not like the too quick nervous embraces he’d bestowed upon her in the past as if terrified that she wouldn’t reciprocate. she gripped him to her and let herself fantasize — this boy is mine, he belongs to me, I am the only one in the world who knows him and his secrets.

“chat” she said. “can I ask you something?”

“hmm?”

she pulled away to look at him. “I - um, well.” she met his gaze and blushed.

“ladybug?”

she took a breath. “I thought maybe we should exchange phone numbers. it would be convenient, for akumas, and more discrete. we could text each other where the akumas are and it would be discrete. and um, I—”

“yes.”

“yes?” she repeated.

“yeah, of course.” he smiled. “I don’t mind at all. it would help a lot in battle.”

she swallowed. “well, I — uh. I didn’t mean just for superhero stuff.” she avoided his gaze. “I thought we could — you know — talk. about whatever.”

“I’ve been missing you a lot,” she admitted.

he took her hands, squeezing them. “yes,” he said again. “I would love that.”

she smiled at him, and he was holding her hands, and she shifted so she held his. he complied wordlessly, leaning into her personal space.

“you know, I should have realized you were the type of lady that would take the lead and ask me for my number.”

she glared. “I did not _‘ask you for your number_ ’, I — oh my god.” she recoiled.  “oh my god. I _did_.”

“that’s literally what just happened.”

she giggled, deciding to own it. “well, are you going to give it to me?”

he pretended to consider. “I might, if you promise not to wait three days before you call to ask for a date.”

she rolled her eyes. “I definitely won’t do any of that.” her hands moved up, sliding to grip his forearms. “but, I actually had some ideas about that.” one hand raised, she tapped his nose.

“ideas — about what?”

she only smiled. “you have a headset, right?” he nodded. “I thought we could try out mecha strike together, if we made new profiles. you know, there’s also these proxy websites—”

“I know”

“—that let you stream, so we could watch that anime you’re always talking about.”

“we could—”

“watch it together,” she finished. “would that be okay?”

“more than okay,” he said. “you’re not going to handle the mid-season finale.”

she giggled. and tugged his hair.

 

-o-

 

his very first message to her was a picture. a screenshot.

a post from a blog titled ‘blurry pictures of ladybug’

this one featured her making some weird prancing pose from the waist down — her arms were a whole nother story, she held them to her sides at a truly unnatural angle. her expression, of course, was entirely blurred.

and then she noticed

_this timestamp is two years old_

_HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN WAITING 2 SHAME ME_

he only sent a zoomed-in closeup of her face

_STOP_

_i officially regret this_

the same picture. captioned,

**_when you regret this_ **

marinette giggled, and swiped away to her internet browser. it only took her two seconds to find an equally beautiful pic of chat noir. she sent it posthaste

_[image]_

_when ur flirting don’t work out so good :(_

**_you wound me, my lady_ **

_all is far in love & war _

she smiled to herself, snuggling into her pillow. her phone buzzed.

this time it was both of them, caught mid-freefall, legs sprawling.

**_FALLING for each other_ **

she snorted, then typed out a quick reply.

_goodnight chat_

**_goodnight my ladybug <3 i will talk to you tomorrow_ **

she smiled. he really would. tapping, she navigated to chat’s folder on her photo app

 _tomorrow_ , she promised herself.

**Author's Note:**

> everyone applaud chat noir for not flipping the fuck out when ladybug asked for The Digits


End file.
